I drop the pastry back on its plate. ‘I take that back. What’s happened?’
I fold my arms and perch on the table edge, my eyes glued to Faye’s anxious frown and the way she chews the corner of her lip. Does she even know she’s doing it? Running that full, swollen bottom lip underneath her teeth and making it blush scarlet...
‘Dani was in a bit of a tizz this morning.’
‘A what?’ I’m trying to focus on her words but all I can see is her luscious lips. It’s almost an offence that she should gnaw on them as she does. I would more than willingly gnaw on them for her.
‘A tizz, you know...?’ She flaps her hands about, pulling my attention away from her lip’s reddened state and making me focus on her dramatic physical display as if it explains it all. I shouldn’t be finding this entertaining, I really shouldn’t, not when it all leads back to Marianna. But my lips still twitch, and I get the feeling I could listen to Faye all day. Mother at the heart of it or not. ‘You know, a flap. A bit of a state. Are you laughing at me again?’
‘No.’ I straighten up some more and gesture with one hand. ‘Continue.’
Her eyes narrow; she doesn’t believe me. Her soft humph confirms it.
‘I’m listening,’ I add for good measure.
‘Like I was saying...’ Her eyes are still narrowed. I’m forgiven enough for her to speak but not so much that she’s at ease. ‘Apparently your mother texted her this morning to complain about her room, something to do with it being tucked too far away, and that her bed...her bed was...was...’
Her cheeks pink up, contrasting with the colour of her dress in the most intriguing way, and, Diavolo, I’ll never criticise mustard-yellow again. Not when it works such magic with her complexion.
And focus, Rafael.
‘Her bed?’ I prompt.
She chews the corner of her lip again, her eyes working hard to steer clear of me now. ‘Well, I don’t think it’s the size of her bed as such, more the fact that she seems quite put out at having to sleep there alone...you know...’ She gives me a quick look. ‘No plus one?’
‘Her and me both.’ I smile slightly. ‘I’m sure she can survive.’
‘Well, yes... I don’t feel the need to parade a man around with me this week either, but she’s the mother of the bride. Maybe she feels like she ought to have someone.’
‘She’ll have her mother and her sister, our cousins, the family.’
‘Yes, the family.’ She pulls the slightest face. ‘Only, I thought...’
‘You thought?’
She lifts her chin a little. ‘I get the impression that she doesn’t get along with them...not all that well, anyway.’
‘And that is her own fault,’ I say. She’ll hear no sympathy from me. ‘If she made an effort once in a while, actually cared about someone other than herself, then maybe things would be different.’
Faye’s eyebrows almost touch the ceiling. I know how I sound: hard, unyielding.
And, again, I’ve revealed far too much.
‘What I mean is...’ I try again. ‘She will be surrounded by family, and isn’t that what weddings are supposed to be about?’
‘Family and loved ones aren’t necessarily the same thing.’ Her eyes are hooked on mine, probing deep, exposing. ‘I just think that maybe it would help her relax if she was able to have a friend, perhaps. Dani just wants her guests to be happy. She’s no bridezilla, but she does have an ideal in her head, which surely includes her mother being happy. And I know she wouldn’t mind if your mother were to have someone; in fact, she expected her to bring—’
‘I rejected him.’
Her brows are up at the ceiling again. ‘You rejected him?’
‘He’s younger than Dani, Faye, so yes, I refused to let him join us.’
‘He...what?’ Her eyes almost pop out of their sockets but then she shakes her head and swiftly recovers. ‘Right, well, perhaps if she was to invite someone less...contentious...surely that—?’
‘No,’ I snap, my anger quick to fire in the face of Marianna. ‘My mother doesn’t get to bring someone. She doesn’t get to have everyone running around making her happy. This week isn’t about her and her petty antics. This is Dani’s week and, as much as I think the whole wedding a foolish stunt, I—’
‘Foolish?’ she interjects, her frown severe in the face of my sudden anger. ‘You mean to say you still don’t approve?’